Hide
by Zenith Aquilla
Summary: After the attempted murder of a young college student, Deadpool is bored. And when Deadpool is bored, well, hide.
1. Two Time's the Charm

Slipping her thin bathrobe onto the cool porcelain tile, Morgan Wilson hesitantly placed the tip of her toe onto the surface of the foam. Sighing in relief she slipped into the bathtub, pleased that the water passed her test.

Submerging herself deeper she allowed the bubbles to play against her lips. She turned, balancing on her elbows. Arching her back, she clenched her fists at the buzz that wracked her body. A lazy smile pulled at her mouth. Everyone should pamper themselves once in a-

Before she could finish her train of thought, a firm hand gripped the back of her neck, pushing her deep beneath the tepid water. She screamed, bitter suds flowing into her mouth. Coughing, she tried to force the harsh cleanser out of her system.

_I'm going to die._

A bare thought flit through her head. Suddenly she let her body go limp, straining to stay calm. To her astonishment, she immediately received the desired effect.

The attacker released her, clapping his hands together in finality.

"Whelp, that was fast," he placed his hands on his hips, "Damn I'm hungry. Hey, babe, you know where I can find some Mexican- shit. I killed her. Funny how you forget that sort of thing."

She struggled to keep her head below the surface, waiting for the telltale sign of his departure. A door slam- _anything_! She just had to get air back into her lungs and she had to do it fast.

He sighed dramatically, "I suppose I'll just have to-"

Unable to hold it any longer she burst up, taking in an enormous breath. Black dots swam in front of her eyes, only allowing glimpses of the assailant. He was covered head to toe in red and black spandex, only interrupted by the various weapons coating his body.

"Hey," he pointed an accusing finger, "Didn't I kill you?"

She blinked at him, still taking heaving breaths, trying to restore her lungs back to peak. He didn't speak, just staring at her. She took in the slight incline of his head, following his vision until-

Realization hit her, and with a gasp, she threw her hands across her breasts. She was completely naked.

"Move!" she demanded. Wrapping herself in the nearest towel, she tried to push past him.

"No," he frowned, crossing his arms.

"Then go to my room and grab me some clothes!" she pointed out the door, pulling the towel a bit tighter.

"Fine!" he put his hands up in mock surrender, "Whatever!"

He disappeared for a second, returning before she had time to even _think _about escape. Tossing her an extremely low cut pink top and skinny jean, he turned respectfully.

_Of course._

She began wrestling into the tight pants.

"Hey, um, I have a question," he twiddled his thumbs, calling over his shoulder, "Are you in shock? Cause you're not really screaming or anything. Well- you were yelling at me- but that was different."

"Why do you want to kill me?" she asked instead, zipping her pants.

"I don't _want _to kill you. I got _paid _to kill you," he clarified, nodding approvingly as she turned around.

"By who?" she scoffed.

"You know Denise Pollard? Well yeah. And boy," he chuckled, "She is paying a-_lot _. That skank hates the air you _breathe_. It's insane!"

"What? I don't know a- who the hell is Denise Pollard?" she shook her head, squinting up at him.

"Wait," he held up a hand, "What's your name?"

"Morgan Wilson. But what does that have anything to do with-?"

"She's fucking your boyfriend," he coughed into his hand, turning around

"WHAT?" she gasped, "I don't even know- she hired a guy to _kill _me? She's insane!"

"Not just any guy," he looked dramatically into the distance, "DEADPOOL!" he struck a pose, flexing his muscles.

"I'm sorry- dead… pool? That doesn't even make sense. How would you kill a swimming-"

"ANYWAY!" he interjected, "This is kinda awkward, but I'm getting paid a lot of money to unalive you."

"Unalive?"

"People tend to get all offended when I say 'kill'."

"Understandable."

"Okay, so all this money- I sorta need it. And the only way to get that is for me to unalive you. You might not like that though- so I had a thought."

"You?"

"Yes, me. So I was thinking that you'd get back in the bathtub- you'd have to take your clothes off of course- and then I'd take a picture or something of you all dead looking. Capiche?" he raised an eyebrow.

"No freaking way!" she scowled at him, "You'll just drown me as soon as I step in the water."

"Whaaaat? How _dare_ you even _assume _that I would- yeah that was basically the plan," he shrugged.

"Tell me the truth," she glared up at him, "Is there any way I'm getting out of this-"

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" he screamed, raising his head to the heavens.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well, I guess I don't have a choice," he sighed. Casually reaching into one of his many pouches, he cocked a revolver at her head.

"Has any one told you that you are a hu-"

"That I have a huge dick? Yes, but your opinion is appreciated," he grinned, clicking off the safety.

_Wait._

** Yeah, hold up.**

"What?" Deadpool frowned irritably, speaking apparently to no one.

_You could get more than two mil for this job._

**Yeah, two mil is sad.**

"So what do _you _think I should do? Hm?" he spoke again to no one in particular.

_ Make it look like you offed the chick, get paid, and then do it again! Twice the cash!_

"That makes absolutely no sense."

**He seldom does. Listen, don't kill her. Pretend you did. Receive money. Reveal she is alive. **_**Actually **_**kill her for even **_**more **_**money. Get it? Then maybe kill the Denise chick. I didn't like her.**

"Yeah, more money _is _good," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Excuse me, who are you talking to?" she folded her arms over my chest, looking at him with concern.

"Your mom. I've made a decision. You can go."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Get out."

Giving him a questioning look, she turned to leave. As soon as he was positive her guard was down, he slipped forward, whacking the gun of his automatic against the back of her skull. She instantly crumpled, sinking to the ground.

"Are you faking it this time? NO? DIDN'T THINK SO!" he shouted, pulling her into his arms, "Now I don't have time to find a Mexican place. God damn," he shook his head in dismay, "For your own good, I hope you can cook."

**Who is he talking to?**

_Himself._

**If he was talking to himself he'd be talking to us.**

_True, true. Who is he talking to?_

"SHAPPUP!" Deadpool placed a hand on his head.

**Ooh, testy.**

Gritting his teeth, he repositioned the girl. For all this, he deserved _at least _four million, he reasoned.

**So, yeah. Bad ending, I know, but I couldn't think of anything. When the yext goes italic or bold out of context, it means he's talking to the voices in his head. If you've ever read Deadpool you know that. UNTIL NEXT TIME DEAR FRIENDS!**

**Z-Quelly**


	2. Jose's Mexican Emporium

_Why isn't she waking up?_

**Do you think she knows how to wake up?**

"Hey- Lady," Deadpool jostled her shoulder, "Laaaaaady."

"Hm?" Morgan arched her back, blinking to adjust to the light, "What is that _god _awful smell?" she wrinkled her nose. Looking around, she lay across a ragged couch. It sat like an island in the middle of the messiest apartment she had ever seen.

Two doors, probably a bathroom and a bedroom, and a little kitchen area were the only things that distinguished it as a livable area. Besides the couch, a malformed green chair and flickering TV were the lone furniture. A light dusting of Mexican food wrappers and various other trash completed the picture. It looked like he'd tried to brush off the couch before setting her down, but a Josè's chimichanga wrapper was still stuck perilously between two cushions.

The mercenary caught her gaze as she appraised the apartment, and grinned proudly, "You like it?" he nodded towards the chair, "I made it myself."

"Out of _what_?" she gazed at its lumpy form.

"Plastic explosives," he declared proudly.

"Oh... okay."

**Dude she doesn't like our chair.**

_Well she can shove it up her-_

"While on the topic of plastic explosives," Deadpool cleared his throat, "You can cook right? You're a female."

"Ignoring the sexist comment and blatant change of subject- I'm a college student. If you've got some ramen I'll make _myself _some," she crossed her arms.

**Why don't we kill her now and just **_**tell **_**Denise Pole-dancer she isn't dead.**

_She's sort of hot- in like a seventeen years younger than you sort of way… nah let's just kill her._

"Last time we had a serious conversation I was naked and you were about to kill me for Denise Pole-dancer," Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"So really nothing's changed."

Morgan breathed in sharply, looking down to find herself fully clothed. Glaring up at him, he started chuckling.

"Got you," he giggled.

**Hold up. Did she just call Denise Pollard Denise Pole-dancer? Dude that's our thing!**

_She's perfect. Marry her. Right now._

"What about the second part?" she tried.

"Nope, that's still happening,"

"Oh…" she trailed off, "When?"

"I dunno," he put his hands behind his head, "When I feel like it."

They sat in an awkward silence, well at least Morgan. Deadpool was completely comfortable with the situation.

"I had an idea," he tilted his head, "I'm gonna get some taco's, and you're not gonna move. Cool? Cool. Bye," he turned to leave, "What, no goodbye?"

"Screw you."

Satisfied, he left. Listening as the lock slid in place, Morgan began to explore. Slipping into the first room, she immediately began to gag. Holding one hand over her nose, she wiped the tears from her eyes. Walking inside was like walking face first into a wall of pure stench. The room reeked of body odor and week old burritos. Fleeing the scene she wrestled with a window, gulping in enormous breaths of fresh air.

Wait. Window. Open. Stepping back, it might be a bit tight, but she was sure she'd fit. Thrusting her shoulders through, she wiggled out onto the windowsill.

"I leave you alone for TWO minutes and you're already-!" Deadpool scowled.

Giving a shriek of surprise, Morgan lost her balance. Waving her arm about wildly, for one serene moment, she was completely still. And then she tumbled off of the edge.

"Damnit, I knew I'd regret getting a room on the fifth floor!" he frowned, "Well- not really- but-"

**SAVE HER!**

"Oh… right," shaking his head he leaped out the window.

"Shit shit shit! God oh god oh-" Morgan breathed, long black hair whipping around her face as the traffic below raced closer and closer.

"Nope, just me!" Deadpool grinned, tackling Morgan midair. She screamed, struggling in his hold.

"HEY! Hey! Stop that!" he scolded, "If you wanna die, there are easier ways to kill yourself! Just hold on a sec."

**Five.**

** Four.**

** Three.**

** Two.**

They smashed into a parked yellow Ford Volkswagen, shattering the window shield into a million shards. Most of which embedded themselves in Deadpool's back.

"Omigod!" she gasped, untangling herself from his hold. Kneeling on the hood, she started to slide off the car.

"Hey!" Deadpool coughed, "Where d'you think you're going?"

Morgan screamed again, plummeting onto the asphalt.

"How about some gratitude? I just saved your _life_!" he glared

"YOU'RE THE REASON I FELL IN THE FIRST PLACE!" she countered, struggling to her feet.

"I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO ESCAPE!"

"People are staring!" she hissed.

"C'mon," he leapt off the wreckage, grabbing her arm.

"OW!" she cried, "Oh _shit! _Ow wow ow," she bit her lip.

Instead of releasing her arm, he gripped the bottom, pulling it close, "You got some glass in there."

"No _shit_!"

"I'll get it," he reached towards the wound.

"NO! No. No thank you," she slapped his hand away.

A small crowd had gathered around. One boy in a blue t-shirt snapped a picture. Another girl started to dial the phone.

"Wait are you-?" Deadpool turned to her, "Is she calling 911?" grabbing one of his hand guns he shot the cellphone out of her hand. She cried out, waving her hand. Pressing it to her mouth, she glared onward.

"Les go!" he hopped to his feet. Taking her by the good arm, he burst through the crowd, sprinting into an alley. The whir of police cars sounded shortly after.

"DEADPOOL!" an officer with a mega phone got out of his car. Deadpool ducked, pushing Morgan's head down as well, "RETURN MORGAN WILSON TO OUR CUSTODY. COMPLY AND NO LEGAL ACTION WILL BE TAKEN. CHARGES WILL BE DROPPED."

Looking around, he took in the blind alley, "I WANNA MILLION BUCKS!"

"DEADPOOL, IF YOU FAIL TO COMPLY-"

"BITE ME BITCHACHOS!" he turned, pointing to Morgan, "And I'll be seeing you around," he winked, the mask moving slightly with the expression. Leaping into the air, he grabbed the rain pipe sticking out of the brick wall, grappling up the building. With a flash of red and black spandex, he was gone.

Shakily Morgan got to her feet, climbing out of the alley, she ran over to the police car. The officer, a young man in sun glasses, looked shocked but immediately regained his composure, "Ms. Wilson! Where is…?"

"Deadpool? He's gone," she shook her head, "Can I go home?"

"We need to take you in for questioning, then we'll take you back. Okay?" he opened the back door for her.

"Okay," she said, but all she thought was, "_I'm going home._"

**Why'd you let her go?**

_We still gonna ice the chick or what?_

"All in good time my friends," Deadpool leaned back, "But yeah, totally. I'm not turnin' down two mil cause some green ass cop shows up."

**So we're on?**

"Oh, _hells _yeah," he smirked, "It's on."

**I** **just realized I gave my OC the same last name as Deadpool. I am an idiot. They are not related. At all. There are plenty of Wilson's, right? Whoops.**


	3. Come and Get It

"Ms. Wilson, according to our records, you went missing February 16th of this year. On February 17th at approximately 4:32 p.m., your roommate Allison Stern reported your absence. You were found at 5:43 p.m. February 19th. Is that correct?" the officer removed his sunglasses, setting them down on the table in front of him.

"Um, sure. I'd just like to get back to my apartment," Morgan sighed, leaning back.

"What are your relations to 'Deadpool'? Are you aware of any motive for the kidnapping?" he folded his hands.

"Well, he told me someone named… Denise Pollard hired him to kill me," she bit her lip.

"Any idea why Denise Pollard would hire a mercenary to kill you?" he asked gently.

_"She's fucking your boyfriend."_

"Nope. No idea."

"All right Ms. Wilson, you're free to go. If you see anything suspicious, don't hesitate to call. We might call you in for further questioning. Would you like a ride back to your apartment?" he stood.

"No, it's nearby," she nodded her thanks, before stepping out of the station. Shivering in the winter chill, she hugged her arms to her chest.

"Ow!" she felt something strike her side. Looking down, a black cellphone sat on the sidewalk. The street was deserted, leaving no one to have dropped it. Crouching down to examine the device, she nearly fell over in surprise when a new text message lit up the screen. Picking up the phone, she furrowed her brow.

**Deadpool**

_Come 'n get me!_

Sliding open the screen, she typed a quick message.

_How about no?_

A picture popped up on the screen. Allison, her roommate, her _best friend_, sat tied to a chair. A gag coated her mouth, and mascara ran down her cheeks like ink.

**Deadpool**

_How about yes?_

Gasping, she dropped the phone onto the concrete, shattering the screen completely. The picture- they were back in his apartment. Sprinting down the street she waved her arm, hailing a cab. Jumping into the back seat, she hurriedly slammed the door.

"Where to?" the driver turned around. He was a sketchy, middle aged man in a cap. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember. When she was falling- the yellow Volkswagen- where _were _they? Biting her lip, she pushed deeper. He'd said he was going o get taco's… the wrappers were from Josè's Mexican Emporium…

"GOT IT!" she slammed her hand down on the upholstery. The cabbie rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting, "First and fourth!"

He nodded, turning back to the front, "Radio?"

"Sure," she nodded hastily, tugging at the hem of her shirt. The police station had given her something to wear, because after falling out a window her clothes weren't what they used to be. The long sleeved white shirt was a size too small, revealing a sliver of her stomach whenever she moved. They'd let her keep her jeans, and she'd snagged a dark red beanie from the lost and found. She looked like slightly less of a mess, at least in her opinion.

She leaned back, closing her eyes. The radio calmed her down, at least a bit.

_You shoot me down but I won't fall_

_I am titanium_

_You shoot me down but I won't fall_

_I am titanium_

"We're here," the cabbie pulled to a stop, "Sixteen thirty four."

"I, um," she pulled a crumpled five dollar bill out of her pocket, "My wallet's inside. Can I go grab it?"

He blinked slowly, "Fine. Be quick."

Hopping out of the taxi, she stopped. The Volkswagen was still there. Looking up at the building it sat squashed in front of, she recognized it immediately. Bursting inside the dilapidated apartment, the grabbed the stair rail, taking two at a time. They were five floors up. Floor five.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she glanced up at the sign. Floor two. Gasping in belief, she stomped on. Crawling onto the fifth floor landing, she looked down the endless corridor of doors. How was she supposed to figure out which one was-

Her eyes fell to the red streaks staining the wooden floors. It looked like something- no, like some_one_ was dragged through.

_Allison._

The trail led to the seventh floor down, stopping abruptly. Or going inside. Dashing over she grabbed the handle, pulling experimentally. To her surprise it swung open with ease.

The lights were all out, leaving the room pitch black. The door swung closed behind her, slamming with finality.

"I'm glad you could make it," a familiar voice grinned. It was a lot deeper, as if he was trying to make it more dramatic.

"Where's Allison?" Morgan frowned, folding her arms.

"I don't think it's Allison you should be worried about," his voice was still overly low.

"No, actually. Where is she?"

"Fiiiiine," he moaned, dropping the voice. The lights flickered on. Dropping his head in an over dramatic sorrow, he beckoned over his shoulder.

He led her into his bedroom, which after the first time, she was quite hesitant to follow. Inside, the entire room had been cleared of furniture- even carpeting. Though minimally, it helped with the odor.

In the middle, tied to a chair, Allison sat. Her head lolled to one side, and a dried cut crusted on the upper corner of her forehead. Some of the blood caked her red hair, making almost an ombrè effect. Her mascara was smeared, just like in the picture, but besides that she didn't look too bad. She blinked as the lights flickered on, but didn't move her head.

"Allison! Are you-?" Morgan began to rush forward.

"AH buh buh!" Deadpool threw his hand out, halting her, "No freebies! This is an assassination- not _charity_!"

"I already told the police about Denise. She's done. You don't have to do this," Morgan put her hands out.

"Fake name!" Deadpool grinned smugly.

"Wait… then who's Denise Pollard?!" Morgan gaped.

"I dunno," he scratched his head, "I might have dated her… in fourth grade… or something."

"So what exactly do you-"

"Because I am a gentlemen," he put a hand on his chest, "I am asking for consent. You for her. Right now. Choose."

"How do I know you won't just-"

"I am a _gentlemen_!" he protested, looking as offended as he possibly could.

"I-"

"Mo, don't," Allison moaned, struggling to sit upright.

"None from you!" Deadpool pulled a gun from one of his pouches, aiming it casually at her head.

"NO!" Morgan cried, "Stop! Yes, okay. Yes!"

Satisfied, Deadpool slowly revolved his arm, from Allsion's head to Morgan's, "Any last words?"

_I'm bulletproof_

_Nothing to lose_

_Fire away_

Fire away

_Ricochet _

_You take your aim_

_Fire away,_

"Fire away," she whispered.


	4. Okay? Okay

"NO!" Allison screamed, as her best friend's body hit the ground. It was like slow motion- her body collapsed, seconds later her head cracked against the concrete. Inches over her ear, a new hole oozed blood over the floor. Biting her lip to keep from gagging, she couldn't turn away.

"Whelp, that took three more days than usual. Now, what to do with you?" he looked Allison up and down.

"You- you _swore_,"she tore her gaze away from Morgan, "You swore you wouldn't kill me," her voice wavered

"Who said anything about that?" he rubbed his chin, "Any suggestions?"

**I think we should have super sexy time with her.**

_And maybe cover her in whip cream?_

"That's a good idea," he nodded, "Maybe after S.H.I.E.L.D. gets here."

"What-? who are you talking to-"

"Has anyone ever told you you look a lot like Mary Jane Watson?" Deadpool pulled up a chair, seemingly from nowhere, and sat on it backwards.

"Thank you Deadpool, that'll be enough," a man in a black suit and sunglasses walked in, "If I remember correctly, you were not given permission to involve bystanders."

"Hey, I got the job done," he spread his arms, "Count your blessings."

"Your payment will be transferred over wire, and we will be taking Ms. Stern into our custody," the agent kept his face carefully blank.

"Wha?! Oh _heeeell _no! That was not in our deal. Nope. Nu-uh," he shook his head rapidly.

"Nore was the assult of a minor."

"She's eighteen! She's legal!"

"Goodbye Mr. Wilson," the agent took out a small knife, cutting her bonds. He helped her to her feet, while she undid the gag. He began ushering her out, much to Deadpool's protests.

"C'mon Chuck, ya can't do this to me! We did a mission together! That one time… in the place! C'mooooon!"

With one arm under her elbow, and the other supporting her back, the agent led her downstairs to a sleek, unmarked black car. Opening the rear door, he ushered her inside.

"S-sir?" Allison murmured, holding a hand to her head.

"Yes," he answered robotically.

"Why does the government want to kill Morgan Wilson?" she shrunk down in her seat.

"What makes you think we're the government?" he raised his eyebrow slightly.

"Just, y'know, the suits. Shades. Car. Answering questions with more questions. It kinda fits," she shrank even farther.

"Your 'friend' was a terrorist."

"What do you mean? Morgan was as patriotic as anyone-"

"Last time she went to an airport, it was discovered that her entire body wasn't only wired with millions of dollars worth of bugging devices, but explosives as well. You were to attennding the Washington DC Capital Tour. Whether aware or not, she was a literal time bomb. She would have killed herself, you, and anyone else in the vincinity," he reported emotionlessly.

"Bu- how could- that's not fair!" she protested, "She didn't even know… how could that happen? Why her?"

"Her father, Mark Wilson, was a confirmed Hydra Agent."

"Mr. Wilson did that? To his own _daughter_? I know him… I've eaten with him, slept in his home… he's a terrorist?"

"Yes."

"But then what do-"

"That's enough questions."

"Y'sir."

"How could Fury do that to us?!" Deadpool moaned, flopping into his explosive chair, "I thought we were buddies!"

**We **_**were **_**buddies.**

_Emphasis on the 'were'._

"We should really go back and get her…" he mused.

**For the principle of it.**

_Then what?_

"Sexy time? I dunno," he shook his head, "I rarely think things through anyway."

**Plus she's super hot. Allison, was it?**

_Looks a bit like Mary Jane Watson._

"HHHRRRRRR!" he stretched, "Well, Josè's waits for no man! Mexican Emporium here we come."

**So, Allison?**

_Allison._

"Director Fury," he offered a calloused hand.

"Allison Stern," she shook it meekly.

"We know."

"Oh… cool," she bit her lip.

"Do you know who we are?" he remained impassive.

"Was it… Shield?"

He looked put off, turning around.

"Lemme guess, I know too much," she guessed, rubbing her arm.

"You could say that," he glanced up at her with his one good eye.

She nervously folded her hands behind her, rocking back and forth on her heels. She had been led blindfolded into some vast, high tech building. Tens of hundreds of men and women typed away on computers, and countless doors led to separate roooms. As soon as the blindfold had been removed, she had stood inches away from a sketchy bald guy with an eye-patch. The first word that flitted into her mind was _pirate_ but every second he death glared her she pushed the word deeper and deeper into the recceses of her mind.

"Now what?" she tried.

"_Now _what?" he gazed at her stonily, "Now I drive you home. Now, you don't speak of this to _anyone_. I've got my eye on you Ms. Stern."

She chuckled weakly.

"That wasn't a joke."

"Yes sir."

"That chimichanga was satisfying. Indeedy," Deadpool nodded to himself, rubbing excess salsa off his chin before lowering his mask once more.

**All chimichanga's are satisfying.**

"True, true," he conceded.

"Young man? Are you talkng to me?" an elderly African American gentlemen peered over his newly obtained Mexican food.

Deadpool squinted at him until he shrunk down and stumbled away. Satisfied, he jumped onto the bright magenta moped he stole, er, found, and zoomed towards the destination he had been fixated on for at least an hour and a half now. Longer than Deadpool had ever focused on something before. But that might just be ADD. Or insanity.

**Allison?**

_Allison._

**Okay?**

_Okay._

Laughing at his favorite comedy, The Fault in Our Stars, he sped away.

**So, yeah. It's still going. Sorry if this chapter was kind of awkward, it's just a filler to switch main characters. I've realized I've been doing more evil Deadpool, but I guess he's just done being a hero for now. Plus he was hired by SHIELD, so it's slightly justified. He's just in a dark place right now. Any comments, questions, ideas, love interests, characters, or even OCs you want me to introduce, just leave it in the reviews. ANywho, love you guys. You're the best. Keep reading. Keep Deadpooling.**

**P.S. I'm cosplaying as Deadpool, and inexpensive back mouunted katanas aren't exactly easy to come by. Fake or real. As fellow Deadpool fans, if you have any ideas, pm it to me! Ciao for real this time.**

**P.S.S. Guess who's coming next chapter? BOB AGENT OF HYDRA IS COMING! HAHA! Excitement! Ciao.**

**Z-Quelly**


	5. Bob Agent of Hydra

Allison slumped over her sofa, grabbing at a TV remote inches out of reach, "Nooo," she moaned, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, "So far awaaaay."

After changing and reapplying her makeup, all she wanted was to watch some television. Preferably the mindless sort you don't need to pay attention to to enjoy.

_CCCCRRRCCKKK!_

"Who's there?" Allison flipped onto her stomach, peeking over the couch.

"Oh- um, hi!" someone peeked out through her bedroom doorway. Half of his face was covered with a green mask and huge, bulbous goggles.

"Who are you?" she furrowed her brow.

"I'm Bob, Agent of Hydra," he stepped out completely, "And you should, uh, need to. Need to come with me. Right now."

"No," she frowned, folding her arms. Since she'd already moved, she snatched the remote, flipping on Adult Swim.

"Hey!" he frowned. Marching forward he plucked up the remote control, switching it off.

"Right now," he stomped his foot.

"Uh, oh gee, I'd better- no," she rolled her eyes, "I am _not_ in the mood for your Hydra shit, okay? Bad time. Leave my house."

"This wasn't part of the- you're _supposed _to be coming with me now," he reasoned, confused at why she was being so difficult.

"You're not remotely threatening," she informed him, before making another grab at the remote.

"NEIN!" he slapped her hand.

"BOB YOU OLD FART!" a streak of red and black dropped in from the ceiling, landing on the Hydra agent and engulfing him in an enormous hug.

Allison screamed, falling over one of the couch arms. Colliding into a side table, she landed in a heap on the ground.

Bob blinked, watching Allison slowly back into a wall, "Teach me your ways."

"Whatchoo doin' here?" Deadpool grinned.

"Official Hydra business," he smiled nervously, "You?"

"Official Deadpool business. Imma need that one," he pointed to Allison.

"N-no Mr. Wilson. Sir. I, erm, Hydra-" he stammered as Deadpool pulled out an incredibly sharp hunting knife, "Y'know what? You can have her. I'm good."

"You sure?" Deadpool tilted his head.

"Positive. Really. She's all yours," he nodded quickly.

"Were you just waiting on the ceiling?" Allison asked tentatively, "The whole time?"

"Yep!" he grinned.

"I was home for like- four hours. You were just…" she furrowed her brow.

"Yep!"

"BOB!" Deadpool scolded, "STOP TRYING TO CONTACT HYDRA!"

Bob immediately threw his communicator on the ground, kicking it under the couch and whistling nonchalantly.

"Better. Now where were-" he turned to Allison. Or more accurately, where she was, "HEY!" he complained as she slipped out the front door.

Trying to control her breathing, Allison flew down the stairs two at a time. Pushing off the wall, she catapulted onto the next landing.

"Nope try again!" Deadpool dropped from the landing above, crouching behind her. She screamed, stumbling back. Losing her balance, she rolled down the stairs, slamming to a halt on the other side.

"And that, my dear Bob, is how it's done," Deadpool smirked. Bob peeked out, gaping at the easy job, "Imma take a leak. Make sure she don't go nowhere," he rushed back inside.

Looking around nervously, Bob hefted Allison into his arms. With a single backwards glance, he sprinted outside.

"Whelp, all done. I wouldn't go in there for a couple…" he zipped his costume, "…Hours. Bob? GOD DAMN!"

Bob gasped for breath. With all the running, and the combined weight of Allison, he wasn't doing so well. Ducking into a nearby alley, he leaned his hostage against a trashcan.

"Y-you're a jackass," she moaned, unable to lift her head.

"I-I'm sorry miss…" he bit his lip.

"BOB Y'OLD TURD BLOSSOM! GIVE'R BACK!" Deadpool stepped into the alley, unsheathing his katanas.

"I CAN'T!" Bob sobbed, "I HAVE DIRECT ORDERS FROM HYDRA!"

"Screw that!" he narrowed his eyes, rushing forward.

"EEK!" Bob shrieked, "Mr. Wilson! Look over there!"

"Huh?" Deadpool skid to a stop, following Bob's finger. As soon as he turned around, Bob grabbed Allison and slid past him.

"Oh, I know Deadpool's gonna do something horrible to me!" Bob whimpered, trying to make his legs go faster.

"BOB!" Deadpool called, steadily gaining, "C'MERE SO I CAN DO SOMETHING HORRIBLE TO YOU!"

"Hydra… Deadpool… Hydra… Deadpool…" Allison considered, "Hydra. HURRY BOB! BE SWIFT CHILD OF THE MOON!" she urged him on.

"I'm a child of Hydra," Bob corrected, confused.

"Yeah, whatever."

"AIEEE!" Bob screeched, collapsing to his knees. Allison toppled to the ground, scraping her arms and legs on the asphalt, "YOU SHOT ME IN THE KNEE!"

"Uuhhhhh," Allison groaned, leaning her battered head against the road.

"N-no… Mr. Wilson… please!" Bob whimpered. Allison tilted her head to watch the scene unfold.

"What'd I tell you bout takin' my stuff?!" Deadpool narrowed his eyes as he approached.

"I-I'm so sorry… Mr. Wilson…the pain…" Bob started to cry.

"I would beat your ass s'more, but I got a hottish date. Well- she looked better- before you _dropped her _BOB!" Deadpool threw his hands up I the air.

"SHIELD! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" a black van swerved into the alley, a man jumping out.

"NOT IN THE _FUCKING _MOOD CHUCK!" in one swift motion, Deadpool whipped out his handgun and fired at the agent's head. His neck snapped back, before he crumpled to the floor.

"Omigod!" Allison whispered, placing her hand over her mouth.

"Yeah you better run," Deadpool nodded, pleased.

"Noo," she pitifully slapped at his hand as he hoisted her up.

**Did you remember to pick up the whip cream?**

He chuckled, "Ohhhh yeah."

**So, I need some inspiration. And a plot. Hopefully both. It's going to keep it's T rating, and Bob will return. See ya losers on the flip side. Or chapter six. Y'know.**

**Z-Quelly**


	6. Mistah Wilson

**So I made a place where you can see variations of some of my OC's. Allison, Morgan, and more characters from more stories are depicted. You can check it out at zquelly dot tumblr dot com. The password is zenith. If you have any fan art, PM me and I'll put them up!**

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Uh… uh… NOTHING!"

"IS THAT WHIP CREAM?" Allison screamed, jumping off the couch.

"NO!" he dropped the spray can, kicking it under the couch to join Bob's communicator. Twiddling his thumbs, he glanced over his shoulder.

"You are sick," she blinked, "You are a sick, sick man."

"You know you love me," he pointed at her teasingly. She gaped at him, shaking her head slowly. He frowned, crossing his arms, "Well you know whaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!?" he fell to his knees as a bullet pierced his skull, "Kinda tickles…" he mumbled, before falling unconscious.

Hundreds of men in green uniforms streamed through the windows and door, each armed to the teeth. Hydra agents. Allison screeched, clutching a couch cushion as they swarmed around her.

"What a refreshing nap!" Deadpool stretched, "Hey what?" he took in the horde of Bob like adversaries, "Okay," he got to his feet, "Slicey time."

With a mighty war cry he pulled out his katanas, immediately slicing through the nearest agent's arm, "I would put you out of your misery, but you know how it is," he smirked, "ALLONS-YYYYY!" he plunged into the crowd.

Allison threw her pillow at an agent's head, surprised when he fell to the ground. He twitched once, before going still.

"The heck…?" she mumbled, ripping open the closest cushion. Inside, at least a dozen bricks sat inside the feathery cushioning, "…How'd I throw that?"

"HEY!" she shouted as an agent tackled her. She grabbed at the couch cushion, but it was wrenched from her grasp. More and more agents clustered around, pulling her towards the open door.

"Huh?" Deadpool looked up from the amassing pile of slaughtered men, "Damn it. UH, OH NO I'M OUT NUMBERED AND BEATEN! THE TRADGEDY! YOU'D BETTER TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER OR SOMETHING!" he cried, before impaling himself on his own sword, "BLAAAAAAAAAAAH!" more of the green clad invaders lifted him, struggling to carry him out.

"Mmmm?" Deadpool lifted his head, taking in his surroundings. Allison lay slumped on the ground, red hair spilling around her head like a blossoming flower. A dirty, blood stained, blossoming flower. Her wrists were shackled, chained to the dank stone wall.

"Heyyyy," Deadpool complained, "Where's my costume?" true enough, he'd been stripped of everything but his mask and Wolverine boxers.

"Shut up you sick whore and act like you're dead," Allison mumbled, not moving anything but her lips.

"Oh you're awake!" he grinned, "Wait I'm chained too. Shit."

"Hey," she opened her eyes, pulling to a sitting position, "What happened," she curiously eyed the scars peppering his skin.

He seemed to darken, not answering.

"I'm sorry-"

"JUST SHUT UP!" he growled, turning away.

The dungeon's door slid open, showing hints of machinery behind the stone façade. A man in a suit walked in, observing the two prisoners, "I see you're awake. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is-"

"Mr. Wilson?" Allison gasped, pain and confusion clouding her eyes.

"Ms. Stern," he nodded, disinterested.

"Has anybody ever told you that you have an incredibly handsome last name?" Deadpool piped up, getting to his feet, "I'm Wade Wilson, nice to meet you."

"Yes, we know who you are."

"You killed your daughter!" Allison blurted out, anger overwhelming her fear.

"Actually, that was him," he nodded towards Deadpool, "But yes, that is what we are here to discuss."

"A phone call would've been fine," Deadpool offered.

"The two of you destroyed millions of dollars' worth of explosives, and their host. We are running out of options, but will give you two," he ignored Deadpool's comment, "Either you can plant the explosives in the capital, or we kill you."

"Okay I'm fine with that," Deadpool reclined, folding his hands behind him.

"She goes first," he nodded to Allison.

"Okay I'm fine with that," Deadpool repeated.

**But she's hoooooooot!**

"Fiiiiiiiiine!" he relented, "I'll bomb your stupid capital!"

Mr. Wilson smiled smugly.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! NO!" Allison straightened, glaring at the two men.

"SHADDUP! Yes, we will work for you. Mmhmm. Totally," he nodded rapidly.

"I'm glad we've come to an agreement. Now come. If you betray our trust, we will kill you," he snapped, and the chains slid off. Gesturing over his shoulder, he walked out.

**I HAVE A PLOT! AND NOT THE EVIL KIND! Well, it might be. You never know. There will be somewhere between like three and five more chapters. Probably three. I've been wrong before. I'd like some reviews. That'd be pretty sweet. Whelp, peace out y'all. **

**Oh! Addressing reviews. Guest, I'm happy you like Deadpool's whip cream focus. So does he. I'm glad you're no longer confused Glowing Rabbit. Other Guest (maybe the same one you never know), you asked if chapter three was the last chapter. Well-**

Deadpool: I wanna take this one!

**Well… okay.**

Deadpool: Yes. Chapter Three is the last chapter.

**But… Deadpool… this is chapter six and- OH KNIFE! UM CHAPTER THREE IS THE LAST ONE! YEP! BUY GUYS! SEE YA!**

** Z-Quelly**


	7. Turncoats

"This is the armory," Mr. Wilson spread his arms as he traipsed inside. Fluorescent lights shined across every weapon imaginable, each presented prominently on their own display.

"Heaven?" Deadpool blinked.

"Very far from," Mr. Wilson replied, "Here," very delicately, as if it might bite, he handed Deadpool his uniform. Without hesitation he struggled into the spandex, "And these," he removed two vests from the wall, each coated in their share of machinery.

"What are those?" Allison eyed one suspiciously.

"Bomb vests. In case things get…" he hesitated, "Messy."

"Oh," she bit her lip, silently slipping it on.

"Next, today's main event, "He pulled a box from the wall, "Time bomb," he clarified before either could ask. Deadpool eagerly reached out, grinning excitedly, "I will accompany you to your car," he started towards the door.

"Yeah," Deadpool nodded, gripping Allison's arm, "Let's go."

She shot him a 'the hell you doing?' look, but he didn't meet it. Instead of waiting for Mr. WIlson to go through, he shimmied past him, scooting through the narrow doorway, "Well it has indeed been a pleasure doing business with you," Deadpool swept into a low bow.

"The hell's that supposed to-"

"BYE!" with no warning Deadpool shot down the hallway, nearly tearing Allison's arm from her socket. She screamed despite herself, her cheeks flushing beet red as she tried not to trip over her own feet, "WHAT ARE WE DOING?!" she called between heavy breaths.

"BOMBING HYDRA STRAIGHT TO HELL!"

They approached an intersection in the hall, and as if on cue, hundreds of agents streamed from the sides, readying their weapons. Screeching to a halt, Allison pitched head first into his back. Looking around rapidly Deadpool took in the over whelming number of assailants.

"NOBODY MOVE!" he screamed, "I GOTTA BOMB VEST!"

The agents hesitated, looking nervously at one another. Shoulders slumping, their weapons relaxed in defeat. Tightening his grip, Deadpool yanked Allison through the third corridor, leaving Hydra's trademark green uniform for endless gray halls and black doors.

Allison placed a hand over her heart, feeling the rapid beat pulsate through her fingertips. Pushing ginger locks out of her face, she wiped the sweat off her brow. Out of nowhere the thundering footfalls of a thousand Hydra agents suddenly rose like a wave, threatening to crash over the two turncoats. They must have finally come to their senses.

Suddenly a yellow glove protruded from a doorway, grabbing Deadpool by the collar and pulling him inside. Allison, dragged by his iron grip, stumbled in beside him.

"Bob I swear to fuck if you try anything-"

"No Mr. Wilson, I'm here to help you!"

"Say what?" Deadpool squinted at his not so faithful ally.

"The control room," he ducked his head, glancing around as if afraid someone would overhear, "It's in the middle. You're close,it's room B79."

"The hell we now?"

"Um, W02," Bob bit his lip, "The letter is the floor."

"There are 26 floors?" Allison cried.

"No. 24. It only goes up X."

"I bet the elevator's out of order too," Allison shook her head.

"No, actually. It's in perfect operating order."

"LES GOOO!" Deadpool pulled her outside, desperately pushing at the down button.

"We're fucked we're fucked we're fucked," he pressed harder, jumping as it dinged open. They jumped inside, sighing in relief as the doors closed. Leaning back, Allison knocked against something soft. And green.

Turning, she came face to face with a shaking Hydra agent, "F-f-floor G," he stammered. Deadpool nodded, calmly selecting floors B and G. She curiously eyed the man, and he immediately averted his gaze.

They waited uncomfortably, watching the floors pass painfully slowly.

_S…_

_ R…_

_ Q…_

_ P…_

_ O…_

_ N…_

The door slid open, an enormous G marking the floor. Shaking uncontrollably, the agent mumbled his apologies, shouldering past Allison through the cramped elevator. Stepping out, he glanced back. Deadpool made a shooing motion. He grinned in relief, starting to run.

"Five… four…" Deadpool whispered as they watched his back fade into the distance, "THREETWOONE!" pulling out a revolver he shot him in the back. The agent collapsed just as the elevator doors closed, descending once more.

_E…_

_ D…_

"OKAY LES GO!" Deadpool pushed Allison out, "LOOK IT'S ROOM 75! CONVIENIANTLY PLACED NEAR THE CONTROL ROOM THAT WE NEED TO GO TO BEFORE ZENITH GETS BORED OF THIS CHAPTER!"

"Ummmm…. What?"

"Nothing! C'mon, 75, 76," he sprinted down the hall, "77, 78, IT'S RIGHT HERE! THIS MASSIVE DOOR THAT SAYS CONTROL ROOM, ROOM 79 HOW COULD WE HAVE POSSIBLY MISSED THAT?" he pointed at a set of double doors, each adorned with a single circular window.

"I don't know. It was pretty big and-"

"NO CHIT CHAT LES GO!" he shoved her into the room.

"Nice of you to join me."

Allison froze, whipping around. Around the dimly lit room, countless televisions, buttons, and dials crowded the enormous space. In the center, draped over an armchair, Mr. Wilson glanced up, "This was not part of our agreement."


	8. Kay Bye

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Mr. Wilson cocked his head to the side, getting to his feet.

"Well actually-" Deadpool started.

"Let me rephrase that," he pulled a gun out of his waist band, cocking it at Allison's head, "Just what do you think you're doing?" her eyes widened in surprise and fear, not daring to turn and face down the barrel.

"That's a very complicated- HAHA JK!" Deadpool shot his hand, knocking the gun across the room. Mr. Wilson winced, clutching his injured palm. Red streaks dripped down his shirt sleeve, crisscrossing down his arm.

"Who has the upper hand now? G-get it? Hand? Cause I- I shot your hand!" he giggled, wiping away an imaginary tear.

"Yes, I understand," he spoke through gritted teeth, glaring up.

"Whoops I dropped it!" Deadpool flung the time bomb into the middle of the room, "Wait no I didn't start it. Hold on."

He kneeled over, messing with the buttons.

"No stop! You fool!" Mr. Wilson growled, not daring to move, "All my work! I'll-!"

"You'll _what_?" Deadpool straightened, the screen now flashing with glowing red numbers. _3:30… 3:29… 3:28…_

"That's our cue," he took hold of Allison's sleeve, breaking into a sprint, "I hate to set a time bomb and run, but you know how it is."

"_LOCKDOWN INITIATED LOCKDOWN INITIATED!" _the intercoms blared.

Throwing open the heavy metal door, Deadpool dashed through. Allison screamed, promptly releasing Deadpool's hand. Mr. Wilson stood, his bloody fistful of her hair, holding her triumphantly on the other side. Her eyes lost focus, sliding past Deadpool, into the hall. _So close! _ She blinked rapidly, angrily wiping at the single tear that arched over her cheek.

"Let her go," Deadpool narrowed his eyes.

"Take me with you and I'll consider it," Mr. Wilson smirked.

Deadpool looked from Allison to Mr. Wilson, weighing his options, "Fiiiiiiiiine," he moaned, "We'll just throw your ass in jail anyways. C'mon."

"_LOCKDOWN INITIATED_," the power went out, cloaking the room in darkness. A second later the emergency lights started, flashing red, "_LOCKDOWN INITIATED. STEER CLEAR OF ALL DOORS_."

With that the door swung shut, a sharp click signaling the lock.

"_Shit shit shit shit shit!_" Deadpool rushed forwards, pulling at the door, "_Fuck. _ALLISON!"

Mr. Wilson blinked, his arms falling to his side in defeat. Allison ran up to the door, pressing her nose against the round window.

"NO!" he gritted his teeth, pounding his fist against the steel.

"_Deadpool get out of here_!" Allison's voice was muted by the wall between them, "_This place is gone in a minute and a half!"_

"NO!" he tried the handle again, "I'M NOT LETTING YOU GET BLOWN UP!"

"_WADE GO!"_

"I'm sor-"

"_GO!"_

He looked back, and for a second, Allison could see right through his mask, right through his sad eyes, all the way down to his heavy heart, "See you soon fuckwad," she whispered, a small smile falling on her lips.

"Later days cunt biscuit," he sighed before turning and running down the hall.

"No NO!" Mr. Wilson roared, shoving Allison to the ground, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" he banged on the window, "STOP!"

Shaking his head, Deadpool vaulted over one of the scrambling Hydra Agents. Flipping around the corner he slid under a cart, grabbing a coffee as he went.

"DEADPOOL IT'S ME BOB HELP PLEASE I DON WANNA DIE!"

"Uh omigod you are _COMPLETELY_ useless!" Deadpool grabbed Bob's collar without stopping, "WHERE'S THE FUCKING EXIT?!"

"Uh, you actually just passed it."

"What?" he skidded to a stop, back tracking a couple steps. A glowing 'Exit' sign flashed, "Oh. Hold on," as they made their way outside he crushed his paper coffee cup, winding it around the door handles, "Okay we can go."

"You might want to step back like, ten, twenty feet?" Bob suggested.

"Oh, right," he carefully jogged backwards.

"Maybe a bit more."

"Right," he ran back, before turning.

"Where's Allison?" Bob tilted his head.

Deadpool jerked his thumb towards the building.

"Oh. You sure you wanna watch?"

"Yeah-"

A flash of white exploded across the sky. Bob shielded his eyes, but Deadpool kept watching. As the white faded a harsh rumbling broke the silence, growing louder and louder until the white was gone entirely and a huge mass of smoke and fire burst into the heavens. A force threw them across the lawn, crashing into the ditch that edged the forest.

"C-can we leave?" Bob coughed.

"N-no, I just gotta check-" Deadpool grunted, struggling to his feet.

"Deadpool no. STOP! Ya big- just- Deadpool it's over," Bob gripped Deadpool's shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze, "It's over."

**And so is this story. In one more chapter. Yeah.**


	9. That's All Folks

Deadpool sighed again, fingering the green plastic explosives that made up his favorite chair. Leaning back, he ran his fingers over his face.

_Dude chill the fuck out._

"Hey!" he straightened, "Uncalled for!"

**You were gonna kill her anyway.**

_At least two or three times._

"Yeah," he sighed, "But we exploded Hydra together. Plus there aren't enough hot people as it is- so-"

When he didn't get an answer he heaved to his feet, slowly trekking to the refrigerator. Pulling it open he examined the shelves. They were bare besides about forty packs of vanilla pudding and a squirt can of whip cream. He gripped the chilled cylinder, and lifting his mask, sadly squirted a blob into his mouth. Wiping his face he lowered the mask, returning the dessert topping to its rightful spot.

**Dude let it go.**

"YOU KNOW WHAT _YOU_ LET IT GO!" he shouted, before collapsing onto the couch. Just as he was preparing to wallow in self-pity, the phone rang. Flopping onto his side he shoved the device up to his ear, "Yellow?"

"_Hey you're that merc right? Deadpool_?"

"Yeeeeeeeeeah."

"_I gotta a job for you._"

His thoughts wandered. A spray of red hair. A smile.

_**"See you soon fuckwad." **_

__He blinked, focusing back on the phone.

"What's it pay?"

**ALL DONE! THAT'S IT! BYE Y'ALL! PEACE! I'M OUT! So that was my story. I went on hiatus for a couple of months, but I'm here and I'm done and I'm free and it's wonderful. I wanna throw a special shout out to Madame SparkAttack, guest, GlowingRabbit, another guest, corymerlin, and HahahahahhahHaha for reviewin it up, cause that always it nice. And hey- just cause I'm done doesn't mean I'm not checkin up on it, so leave a review. I appreciate it. Check out some of my finished works like Unstoppable (X-Men), Two Worlds (Peter Pan), Innocence (Spiderman), and Curiosiy Killed the Cat (Avengers). Right now I'm working on Badaboom (Batman) and Runaways (X-Men) so they'll be the most up to date. If you couldn't tell, I kind of like super hero stuf. Ha. Haha. Haha.**

***sob***

**What I've Become is my X-Men collab, so there's that. Don't read Exposed or Monster. I'm not even going to tell you what they're about. They are literally only up for sentimental value. Just like, ignore those.**

**So I'm going to put up an excerpt from Badaboom because that's what I'm working on. If you're not interested in Batman this story is over. Go on with your life. For those who choose to ignore the bold bit I will literally title the next chapter 'Badaboom Excerpt.' So long muchachos. **


	10. Badaboom Excerpt

_BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! _A nearby horn wailed, and just like clockwork, Mrs. Tuck's middle finger flew out the window at lightning speed. It didn't even faze me anymore. I knew that every day some kid fresh out of driver's ED would piss her off, and everyday she'd reward the will the old one finger salute. Just like clockwork.

"You just wait ladies," Mrs. Tuck turned to address her daughter and I, bright pink sunglasses slipping down her bleach blonde ponytail, "I found these fabulous little chicken wing things at the grocery store. They come with garlic parmesan sauce- to die for."

"Mrs. Tuck," I grinned, "I'm a vegetarian."

"Just testing you," she snickered, pointing at me teasingly. Emily Tuck chuckled beside me, used to our exchange by now. After four years, we all were.

"Ms. Emily Tuck, buckle your seatbelt!" Mrs. Tuck frowned at her daughter accusingly.

"Mom, you're not even wearing one!" Emily complained.

"You're right, I'm a horrible example. Follow Ava's instead," she nodded at me, "At Gotham rush hour you'd be insane not to-"

"MOM THE ROAD!" Emily shrieked, her terrified gaze glued to the window shield.

We all turned just in time to see the side of an enormous white truck. The window shield shattered and everything went black.

I blinked rapidly, wrenching myself from the destroyed leather seat.

"…Emily…" I moaned, turning my head to see my friend. I hissed at the unexpected flash of pain that accompanied using my neck. Shifting my shoulders, I strained to look at her.

"Omigod," I breathed. Her skull had caved in, completely shattered. Blood stained the window, the seat, everything, "Emily…"

A trickle of blood dripped from her nose, as if she was answering to her name.

Suddenly the door was wrenched open, and someone threw Mrs. Tuck out of the car. Her body flopped across the ground like a ragdoll, and then didn't move. Definitely not the paramedics.

I went rigid, slumping further down into the seat.

"Are you all dead?" the man asked nobody in particular, not bothering to turn around.

"Yes," I squeaked, not sure what to do.

He rotated slightly, pulling a Glock 17 from his coat pocket. I hit the ground, waiting as the bullets rang against the upholstery.

"How about now?" he revved the engine, stomping on the accelerator. I was silent this time, but obviously not silent enough, "Fine, be that way," he pouted, weaving through traffic.

A steady purr echoed behind us, tempting me to peek through the Mazda RX-8's tinted window.

The Batmobile, easily recognized by its infinite fame of GNN (Gotham Network News), trailed steadily behind us. I've barely spent a night _not _watching it slide through traffic, bombarding mob bosses and drug dealers with deafening rounds of gunfire.

"_I've got a hoooooostage_!" The Joker sang, "Well, two. But that one's kind of dead… maybe one and a half?"

That's who he was. It was the Joker. His name had always been tossed around- jokes, horror stories, but it was always someone else. It was always someone else.

The one time I had seen his face was a night my mother had left the news on.

"…_Police released video footage found concealed on the body. Sensitive viewers be aware: it is disturbing."_

My mom had been curled up on the couch, cocooned in a huge throw. She hadn't heard me step in. She didn't know I was there.

"_Tell them your name_," The Joker demanded, the video trained on a bloodied man in a makeshift Batman costume.

"_Brian Douglas_," his voice was weak and strained.

"_Are you the real Batman_?" his tone was mocking.

"_N-no_."

"_No?" he cackled, "Then why do you dress up like him_?" he pulled Brian's mask off, shaking it for everyone to see.

"_He's a symbol…_" Brian murmured, "_That we don't have to be afraid of scum like you…_"

"_But you do Brian_," the Joker grinned, "_You really do. You think the Batman's helped Gotham_?"

Brian nodded uncertainly.

"_Look at me_," he demanded, "_LOOK AT ME_!"

The camera swung to face the Joker, donning his signature white chalk makeup, "_This is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham? Batman has to go. So…" he leaned in, "Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Every day he doesn't… people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word._"

At that point the video started fading to static, and I had yelped at the sudden sound. Mom had been angry, but too upset to work up a decent rage. She had sent me too bed and we'd both tried to forget. Since the fear gas incident we'd been grateful for all of Batman's help, he'd personally saved my father's life. We knew he'd get bad press for the Joker thing but were willing to believe in him the way he believed in Gotham.

_People will die._

Shit.

I didn't fear death, though it wasn't preferable, but I had an extremely low pain tolerance. Unfortunately the two were never far from each other.

The Batmobile disappeared from view, losing me my only point of interest. My fifteen year old mind demanded constant entertainment, so I focused back on the Joker.

He was enjoying himself thoroughly, an enormous smile plastered across his face. And it wasn't just the scars.

Suddenly the Batmobile skidded in front of us, appearing out of a side street. If we were to collide- well- it'd be pretty easy to guess which car would come out on top. The Batmobile was built like a tank.

The Joker slammed the break down, hopping out of the car. I was completely ready to wait it out and head for the hills, but the Joker had other plans. Yanking me out of the vehicle he pressed me to his purple suited breast. He advanced towards the Batmobile, pressing a knife to my throat.

"Come out come out where ever you are," he sang quietly.

With a hiss the Batmobile's hood lifted, allowing the infamous Batman to climb out. He steadily moved forward, hesitant to do anything that would endanger me.

My chest began to heave as my breathing picked up. Reality began to set in as the cold metal stung against my jawline. Night had fallen and the only lights shown from the dimly lit lampposts lining the road. With Batman's black car and suit, he looked like a shadow next to the extravagancy of the Joker.

"Let her go," Batman rasped.

"Hm, let me think. No."

Though the streetlights barely lit the actual streets, everything seemed too bright. The purple glove, the scarlet smear, the soft orange glow. The moon.

"I would seriously reconsider moving any farther," The Joker threatened, but he began chuckling so hard afterwards his knife shook.

Batman stopped obediently, a dark hatred in his eyes.

"Now, take off that mask of yours, or little Suzy here?" the Joker nodded towards me.

"Ava," I corrected him meekly.

"Little Ava here might not see high school," he finished smugly.

"I'm going into tenth grade, I started high school last year," I tentatively corrected him yet again.

"Sh sh sh sh shhhh," he caressed my hair with his free hand, forcing a shiver down my spine, "Shhhhhhhh."

He looked back up, but Batman had disappeared completely. My first thought was that he'd given up- left me to the madman's devices.

"Baaaad move," he shook his head, still chuckling, "You reeeally screwed up this time."

I bit my lip, wondering where in hell Batty had gone. He always saved them. Always.

"Y-you don't have to do this," I offered.

"Actually I really do," he licked his lips.

"It was worth a try," I sighed.

The light closest to us blew out with a bang, showering the street with sparks. Then the next. And the next.

"Ha ha! The fun begins!" he crowed.

A _phwish_ sounded above and a two hundred pound mass of vigilante landed on top of us. The knife skittered across the ground, and after a beat I jumped to retrieve it. The Joker saw me going for it and grabbed my leg, wrenching me towards him. Stumbling out from under Batman, the Joker hurdled over me and snatched the knife. He slashed at me savagely, slicing my leg before Batman wrestled him back into his hold.

I scrambled out of the way, clutching at my dripping appendage.

"You have no idea," he could barely speak he was laughing so hard, "What you've started. Now she has too die. Nice job Bats, here's one more for the 'ol conscious. How many people have died because of you? Hm? HM?" by that point he could no longer speak, his insane laughter piercing the night like a knife.

"Go home," Batman rumbled, eyeing me sharply. It felt like a mask, trying to hide his concern. His pain.

I nodded abruptly, clambering to my feet. Careful not to put too much weight on my leg, I tore into the night.


End file.
